


never knew it was worth the sacrifice

by syrenhug



Series: nightride [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Artist!Dean, Bisexual Male Character, Blood Prejudice, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Character Study, Character(s) of Color, Discussion of Racism, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Pansexual Character, vague timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:19:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenhug/pseuds/syrenhug
Summary: As an artist he often gets distracted by things other people might not notice. Freckles, the shape people’s mouths make, curls and how they fall over someone’s neck or back. Beauty knows no gender. Makes art of everything. And Blaise is, well, beautiful.His eyelashes are thick, eyes narrow and the darkest shade of grey Dean has ever seen in his life. He twists his mouth when he talks, rolls up his sleeves when he’s annoyed and never says more than five words in one breath.





	never knew it was worth the sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> title from a lyric in sacrifices by tinashe. the whole album is dean/blaise in a nutshell
> 
> \- this isn't too deep but i did talk about some things i feel strongly about. no excuses though. just perspectives.  
> \- talking about mlm of color (specifically black men which both blaise and dean id as) is p important and i wanted it to be known that people forget that this dynamic is v similar to draco and harry's, but people don't want to admit that or write content for it because there's no white people involved? and that's the tea  
> \- enjoy

Dean is quiet. It is not because he has nothing to say, but because he knows how words can spill and make bigger messes than most people do.

He says the things that matter. Says, _I believe you._ Says, _this will be fun._ Says, _yes, of course, I love you too_.  He gives words like a gift because they are the only things he knows to give.

He doesn’t ask, _what will become of us?_ Doesn’t wait for the hush of the unknowing, for Ginny to kiss him with eyes closed or mouth open.

Dean is quiet; like rock, like something not easily moved or broken. Quiet like blinking.

Quiet like dying.

* * *

 

Blaise Zabini sits in front of him in Astronomy.

It’s not necessarily the worst thing in the world. He could care less about house rivalry and getting even. They’re too old for anything that is not trying to survive and get the fuck out of here. Sure, he might feel differently if Malfoy was in the class instead. But he’s not.

And. Well. Blaise is aesthetically pleasing.

As an artist he often gets distracted by things other people might not notice. Freckles, the shape people’s mouths make, curls and how they fall over someone’s neck or back. Beauty knows no gender. Makes art of everything. And Blaise is, well, beautiful.

His eyelashes are thick, eyes narrow and the darkest shade of grey Dean has ever seen in his life. He twists his mouth when he talks, rolls up his sleeves when he’s annoyed and never says more than five words in one breath.

“See something you like?”

Dean startles, accidently hitting his knuckles into his nose. “Fuck.”

“Problem, gentlemen?”

“No, professor.” Blaise rasps, holding Dean’s stare for longer than socially appropriate. By the time he’s turned around again, Dean is flushed enough to not to look up from his parchment again.

After class he catches Dean before he can escape. They're around the same height but Blaise does that thing that all the Slytherins do - the way of making themselves seem taller by sure force of will and attitude. It's admittedly really attractive.

Dean is very bisexual.

“What were you looking at?”

He takes a deep breathe. “You're attractive. Can’t I look?”

“Okay,” The corner of Blaise’s mouth tips upward. “Well then.”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“That look. I don't have a crush on you or anything. I just - I'm an artist."

Blaise nods slowly. Looks five seconds away from laughing. "I'm sure you are."

"I'm walking away now." And he does. 

(If they meet in the room of requirement and press their mouths together for longer than should be humanly possible, well, that's no one's business but their own.)

* * *

 

Things that his father leaves him: his black, his magic and the need to be nothing but shadow. To be so invisible that no one will notice when he slips away. Dean watches people and almost envies their visibility. But there is something to being the sidekick, the one everyone knows by name, but nothing else. Makes it easier to be free in the end.

* * *

 

Luna is the only person to notice. Her eyes are wide and knowing as she looks over him in the corridor. It's easy to bump into people.

“Ah.” She smiles sweetly; a child opening a present on Christmas morning. “You’ve been busy.”

“Are you a seer or something?” Dean asks because she always knows the most random things about a person. It would be uncomfortable if it wasn't so accurate. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” And, she winks, already skipping to her next class.

* * *

 

Blaise kisses softly. Kisses like they have more time than they really do. As if even if someone should see he still wouldn’t stop or regret. They make out on a bed in the Room of Requirement and breathe in uncertainties. _What we are doing? When will this end?_

He opens his eyes. Blaise’s gaze makes scrapes of him and he ducks so as not be feasted on. “Stop.”

“You think a lot. What do you think about?”

He presses his lips back, feels the teeth sharpen on his tongue lightly and reluctantly leans back to answer. “None of your business.”

Blaise tilts his head back. He does it when he’s thinking, Dean sees him do it in class all the time. “You can tell me shit.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea we were dating.”

“Why, because boys don’t date each other?”

 _More like black boys don’t date. More like there can be nothing but blood and bodies from us holding hands. More like what’s the point?_ “Aren’t you supposed to be the Slytherin here?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the Gryffindor here?”

Dean winces. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Blaise grins - all teeth and no good intent - and grazes his thumb on Dean’s neck. “Here’s your punishment.”

* * *

 

Ginny pulls herself away from Harry long enough to talk to him in the corridor. Her smile is a question.

“How are you?”

He doesn’t hate her or hate Harry or want to blame either of them for getting him involved in their _whatever_. But he just. Doesn’t care anymore and he wants to not be anywhere, but especially not there. “I’m fine. I’m pretty tired, though, so I think I’m gonna go lay down.”

“Oh,” Her smile dims. She’s smart as hell, can easily tell when someone’s trying to get out of a situation. Always the first person to make allowances and let go. “Well, it’s good to see you. Come find me sometime.”

“Sure.” He says. Isn’t sure he means it. And from her nod, she isn’t sure either.

* * *

 

The Great Hall is buzzing. It's the time of year where everyone is mostly settled. Harry and Ginny are talking animatedly across the way, grinning into each other's faces. They look happy. He doesn't know who he's more jealous of. Dean sweeps his gaze over to the Slytherin table.

Blaise's head is down, seemingly ignoring everyone, as he does more often then people think. He's loyal to Draco and Pansy, but finds them gossip-y and slightly immature. Dean laughed when he told him that. Imagining Draco gossiping about who's dating who is pretty funny. Also, not that far-fetched. 

Suddenly, Blaise makes eye contact with him and smiles. Dean immediately goes back to eating. 

* * *

Three weeks becomes three months until it’s winter and they’ve settled into some sort of routine. Blaise is writing a Potions essay and Dean is stretched out on the bed, reading an old fantasy book from back home. His sketchbooks have been filling faster and faster lately. Apparently he's been inspired. Thinking about it too hard makes his head hurt.

Dean rolls over to look at Blaise. “So explain this whole blood prejudice thing to me.”

“Ah. I knew this was coming. Surprised you haven’t brought it up before.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“What is your question, Dean?” His gaze is as sharp as his words, a knife; ready to cut until bleeding. Dean sits up. He can play this game.

“Do you support Voldemort?”

“No. My family has neutral for a very long time. My mom, on the other hand, is a wild card.”

He knows a little about Blaise’s mother. Knows her numerous amount of husbands and how’s she most likely murdered them all for the money. He wonders if Blaise ever knew his father.

“But you have a blood prejudice. You have something against people who are muggle-born.” He digs because Blaise has the end of his quill in his mouth looking undeterred. Dean hates him like this.

“Yes.” Blaise sighs. Purses his lips. "But I've grown from how bad I used to be. I don't believe in using _names_ anymore."

“Why? What possible reason could you have for being bigoted in any way?”

“This isn’t like race, Dean. Muggles have been trying to kill those with magic since we’ve existed. They would see us locked up, murdered, experimented on. Sorry if I’m protective of that.”

“But you hang out with people who are awful to anyone who’s not pure-blooded. And they are violent and they have family who could be abusive. That’s not right.”

They stare at each other. Dean watches Blaise’s throat as he swallows. “I don’t excuse that. But, try to understand. If the wrong muggle found us do you think they’d be merciful? Do you think they wouldn't open us up just to see how we tick? We know how muggles treat anyone who doesn't fit their idea of normal."

“Just because someone isn’t merciful to you, doesn’t mean you can’t be merciful to them.” Dean says, but doesn't know if he believes it himself. Thinks of all the ways white people haven't been merciful to people who look like him, who look like both of them and doesn't know if he could be the bigger person. If he should have to be.

Blaise flicks his eyes to the side like he knows. They're so different. What they have in common fits so well, but does it even matter if Blaise finds something disgusting in him because he's not of pure blood? It makes him sick to wonder about it.  “And I think it’s beautiful you think that. But my world has never worked that way. Just - leave it, Dean.”

“Hey,” He licks his lips, and straightens up. "Everyone has to make a choice eventually." 

Blaise's shoulders tense. Then relax as the seconds fly by with nothing else said from him. None of this is easy. But he won't let someone - no matter how much he cares for them - get away with being a complete prick.

"I know." 

* * *

Seamus kisses him on New Year's Eve. It’s butterbeer burning and too much tongue and wet. Dean pulls away after the initial disbelief.

“What are you doing?”

Seamus laughs. His eyes are as shiny as his lips. “Pretty sure that’s obvious, mate.”

“No.” He swallows. “I’m - I can’t.”

“Why? Because you’re playing around with that Slytherin shit? I thought you’d be over that by now.” Seamus’s jaw is clenching, accent going even sharper in his anger. People meet Seamus and think he’s all fun and jokes, but he’s always been quick to blow up and take anyone around with him.

“I like him.” Dean admits and it doesn't hurt. For once in his life it doesn't seem like the world with explode if he admits he likes a boy romantically. 

His best friend's mouth opens as wide as the tea cups they used in Divination. "How? He's a snake. Most likely a filthy Death Eater -"

"You don't know him, he's -" He tries to find the right word. None of the usual nice things you say about someone you like really apply. Blaise just _is_. "He's honest. And he's not a Death Eater."

Which - the second one isn't exactly a great measure of decency, but you take what you can get.

Seamus stares. Falls into his bed and curls a pillow over his face, voice muffled when he speaks. "I can't believe my best mate is in love with a Slytherin."

"Shut up." He groans, throwing his own pillow at Seamus. But he doesn't dispute it. 

* * *

 

The war comes and it is not silent. It serves to remind them how time has passed, how young they can't pretend they are anymore. He watches the beginning and pulls Blaise into a class room.

“If you stay neutral then you might as well be on his side.”

Blaise’s jaw clenches. "I know."

He presses his fingers to Blaise's cheek and taps the line that introduces his cheekbone, How many times has he drawn this boy, this man? It seems to always be easier to know someone through their appearance, the face they show you. But Dean knows that the inside is harder to make art of it. Not everyone is as beautiful inside as they are on the outside. But it's up to people, not just artists, to make the effort to figure that out. "It's okay to be afraid. You're not the only one."

Eyelids fall shut, and a click of the tongue is all it takes for Blaise to grab Dean's hand. Warm and sweaty, he notes. Cute. "I'm 50% doing this for you."

He grins. Tightens his grip on their hands. "I can work with 50%."

* * *

It ends. And they leave into the night, quiet as day breaking. 

**Author's Note:**

> they're boyfriends
> 
> next part of this series is luna/ginny and the last part will be harry/draco
> 
> on tumblr @syrenhug


End file.
